Crash
by Athena13
Summary: Robin & Patrick. Robin and Patrick share a night of passion after the Maarkham Island adventure, and then everything crashes.
1. Chapter 1

**Crash  
**Athena13 – 2006

**crash **(krAsh): To break violently or noisily; smash; To undergo sudden damage or destruction on impact.

>>>>>>>>>

"Patrick, what are you doing here?"

"I thought we should talk," Patrick says quietly and clears his throat.

"Now, you want to talk?" Robin rolls her eyes. "Tell me why I should want to hear anything you have to say?"

It has been two days since Robin and Patrick had made love for the first time. Since then, Patrick has deliberately avoided Robin and Robin has been too mad to force him to talk to her. Seeing him turn in the other direction when he saw her just hours after he left her bed staggered her. Then and there she cursed herself for a fool as she realized that it has been her who has made all the moves in their non-relationship. Sure he laid on some lame come-ons and asked her out a bunch of times, called her a coward to goad her on and shoved Carly in her face to get a reaction, but anything that resulted in them actually getting closer on any level other than sex had been her doing not his.

She doesn't even know where to direct her fury. Who should she really be mad at? Objectively, Patrick has never lied to her and she hadn't woken up in his arms expecting him to suddenly declare his love. She was the one to believe counter to all the evidence that there was something more between them than the chase. And maybe, just maybe as her mother accused he was only a stand-in Robert Scorpio she was trying to get to love her. In both cases, she acknowledges, she is totally to blame for how things have turned out. It doesn't, however, lessen the hurt slicing through her with every breath.

"Because we have to work together?" Patrick says hesitantly, lamely. Looking at her, standing there in all her righteous fury Patrick itches to touch her. To kiss her. To feel himself inside her again. That he can't he knows he only has himself to blame. He knows he did a classic, amateur, juvenile thing – he quite simply freaked out. He knows that it's all his fault and he has no idea how to make it right, or even what making it right looks like in the end.

He knew that sleeping with Robin was more than just about the challenge, he knew that he had feelings of some kind for her. It was all right there on the surface, his desire to make sure she was happy at all times, the need to make sure she was safe, all standing side-by-side with his constant need to get her attention by any means available, which usually consisted of flirting with other women or bragging about his medical talents or telling her how cowardly she lived her life when she didn't succumb to his charms. Even he couldn't ignore it so he ascribed it to sexual attraction and friendship. He even told himself that it would be a novel thing to have sex with someone he cared that much about, even if he refused to figure out how big "that much" measured. Worse, somewhere between the night in his hotel room when he nobly put a stop to things and the Maarkham Islands he convinced himself that Robin's desire for "long haul" was something negotiable or mutable – that it meant they would be friends with benefits and eventually they would drift apart. She would, of course, realize he really was just a shallow jerk and not want to be with him in that way anymore at the same time he would get tired of being with her, like he always does with women, and move on. Then, they'd remain colleagues and friends and life would go on.

Somehow, in some way, he realized he was completely wrong about all of it when he woke up the next morning with her in his arms and looking at her and feeling her naked body against his took his breath away. And when she opened her eyes he freaked out because he had never felt like that before; for that matter, he rarely felt when he was in that position. If the woman even spent the night – and he considers himself a nice guy in that he's always considered the morning after as part of the package and didn't toss women out with the sun – he was usually thinking about morning sex, what surgeries he had scheduled that day and whether he wanted a repeat with the current bed contestant some other time. Lying about and mooning over the woman in his arms was a completely foreign experience. He even passed up the opportunity to have morning sex he was so freaked out.

Unlike Patrick, Robin was not surprised that morning. She knew it was all a new experience for Patrick, she expected him to stumble his way through. What she didn't expect was for him to avoid her and then revert to type and ask out some busty blonde nurse right in front of her the very next day.

"Then let me put that concern to rest. I have no problem working with you Dr. Drake. So if you're finished I have a life to…." Before she can finish her sentence her cell phone begins to ring. She considers ignoring it, then she considers slamming the door in Patrick's smug face – not that he's looking quite so smug just then but she knows it's only a matter of time – but before she can decide he's pushing his way into her apartment. She glares at him, slams the door and picks up her cell phone which was sitting on the table near the door where she dropped it along with her keys when she got home from work.

"Hello!" She snarls into the phone as she watches Patrick amble his way over to her couch and make himself at home. She wants to throw the phone at his head. He managed about two seconds of humble and now he was making himself at home, unbelievable. "Sorry, Bren. I'm in the middle of…what's wrong?" Robin freezes. "Bren, you need to slow down and speak in English, not Italian. What…what happened to Dylan?" Robin sounds breathless.

Patrick has been watching Robin since she asked what was wrong. The alarm in Robin's voice and the mentioning of another's man name has him stand back up as she slumps back against the door as if her legs will no longer hold her up.

"How is he? What hospital?" Robin is shaking so bad now she can hardly hold on to the phone. A minute later she turns off the phone, drops it from nerveless fingers back on to the table. Her face is white and she isn't even aware any longer that Patrick is in the room.

"Robin, who's hurt? Who's Dylan?"

"He was in a car crash." Robin put her hands over her face, trying to regain her composure now that she remembers she's not alone. "He's seriously injured, still in surgery." She takes her hands down. "I need to go." Decision made she straightens up and heads for her bedroom, Patrick hot on her heels. Neither of them pauses as they cross the threshold of the room they last spoke, and did so much more, inside of two days ago.

Robin reaches into the closet and pulls down a suitcase and begins packing. Patrick stands watching her, assessing. All thoughts of the tension between them disappeared the moment she looked stricken and they are now a distant memory as he watches her looking more distressed than he's ever seen her. He's deeply unnerved in fact by her uncharacteristic lack of control as she tosses clothing into the suitcase without her usual care and precision. Without even realizing he has made a decision he walks over and puts his hands over hers.

"I'm going with you. Tell me what to pack."

Robin stops and puts her hands over her face and blew out a breath. "I can do this." Calmer now, she begins to fold her clothes.

"I meant it, Robin. I'm coming with you." He put his hands on her shoulders. Before Robin can protest he continued. "Where are you going?"

"Monaco. He's in Monaco."

"Who is in Monaco…car crash?" Patrick rears back, a stunned look immobilizing his face. "Do you mean Dylan Neal at the Grand Prix?"

Startled, Robin's eyes widen and she looks up at him. "How…" she broke off. "Racing. You know of him from racing."

"Know him, we…we started out on the circuit together. His dad and my dad, they became friends. We used to…." Patrick looked away for a moment, he frowned. "How do you know him?"

"I was going to marry him," Robin whispered, looking down at her tightly clasped hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

Robin's fear is palpable and Patrick has been a rock for her.

At the airport in Port Charles Robin had tried, using her calling card and a pay phone, to get the hospital in Monaco to give her information on Dylan's condition. She failed because the media attention surrounding the crash has made the hospital administration clamp down. They were suspicious of her unaccented French and dismissed her claims of being a doctor and friend of the patient; she was quite bluntly told that media is not to be given information and hung up upon more than once. She was also unable to get through to his parents, therefore the only source of information she has on Dylan's condition has come from vague newscasts that only say that he is believed to still be alive and she will be without those for the next seven hours before they land in Paris for their connecting flight to Monaco. She prays that she will not be arriving in time for a funeral.

Robin looks over at her traveling companion. She can't believe that Patrick was really going with her to Monaco. She can't believe she let him. Not that, she admits, he could be dissuaded. She sighs and looks back out the window. Like on their trip to the Markham Islands they are sitting in business class seats Patrick has insisted on paying for and without consulting her given her the window seat. Her mind is too jumbled with the past and present to take it all in. She can't muster up the energy to resist the instinctive support she and Patrick have always offered each other when the chips were down even though she knows she is in danger of once again mistaking it for more than what it is. Not that, she presses her head against the window, she could ever figure out what it is between them. She gathers the airline blanket up to her neck and closes her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well in the nights since the one spent in Patrick's arms. She doesn't realize it's his nearness that lulls her into a deep, restful sleep.

A couple of hours later Robin wakes up and finds that sometime during her sleep she migrated from the window and is now lying with her head on Patrick's chest, his arm around her shoulders. "Morning sunshine." Patrick turns the page of his sports magazine with his free hand.

"Sorry," she mumbles and tries to move away, but Patrick tightens his arm.

"We still have another four hours if you want to go back to sleep."

His voice is tender and sends a shaft through Robin's heart. She sighs and rubs at her bleary eyes. "It'll throw my body clock completely off if I go back to sleep." She pulls away again, this time he lets her go. She pushes her hair off her face and looks at Patrick sideways. Nothing. He's just reading his magazine. She reaches down for her purse and excuses herself to the bathroom.

When she's gone, Patrick stops pretending to read the magazine and rubs his hand over his chest and bites his bottom lip. It felt good to hold her in his arms again. Which was probably why, he admits for a brief second of self-awareness, that he maneuvered her into that position telling himself that it was purely for her comfort. He wonders if coming along on this trip was such a good idea, but then he imagines being left behind in Port Charles while she went to visit some guy she was going to marry. But it's not just that. Nor is it that he wants to see Dylan and lend any medical expertise he might provide because Dylan was his biggest rival and best friend on the racing circuit; the guy with whom he perfected his ability to pick up the girls who flocked to the tracks to meet the drivers. It's that, he chuckles quietly to himself; it was boring as hell working without her at the hospital.

He grimaces as he thinks back to the days she was still in the Maarkham Islands having an adventure while he was involved in the mob drama that would not end. He operated illegally, played footsie with Robin's mafia hitman ex, fought the same old fight with his father, was held at the police station and almost went to jail, was confronted by Liz Spencer's pissed off and messed up husband and he had never been so bored in all his life all because Robin wasn't there. He must have checked his cell phone five times an hour when he wasn't operating waiting for her to call. When she finally did he couldn't get to her apartment fast enough.

And that was the damned problem, he thought now, and rubs his forehead. He rushed over there, caught Robin in one of those vulnerable moods she was always in after dealing with her father so she didn't fight him off and they fell into bed and he didn't know which way was up the next morning. He knows he shouldn't have run out and acted like a coward, all they had was a disconnect. They obviously both lusted and cared for each other. She didn't do one night stands and he didn't do commitment. It was a basic disconnect that could be resolved with a simple conversation, which was why he had gone over to Robin's apartment today to clear the air and get them back on track. It wasn't to try to talk himself into her bed, he tells his libido. Once they talk, he tells himself, everything will be fine. Patrick has managed to talk himself back around into his comfort zone by the time Robin returns to her seat looking freshly scrubbed and beautiful.

So what if he wants to kiss her, he's a guy. He knows that it can't happen again. He licks his lips and picks up his magazine. He lasts only two minutes before he turns to look at Robin who is doing a crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine, in French. He smirks at her geeky intelligence and decides he has to get her attention.

"How did you two meet?" Patrick congratulates himself for sounding, he thinks, so blasé. He has been dying to ask that question and a ton of others since the moment she uttered his name in panic on the phone with Brenda. He wants to know everything about her connection with Dylan Neal. He feels sucker punched by her admission that they were once engaged. He wants to know when, how, why did it end, why is she so upset that he's hurt now? In his mind there have only been two men before him – Stone and Jason, neither of which were real competition. He feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him, though he's not clear as to why he feels that way or what exactly he's competing for.

Thankful for the distraction, Robin's lips tilt into a small smile. "It's really cliché," she warns. "We met in a café in Paris. I was drinking a _café au lait_ and working on the fifteenth billionth draft of a very frustrating journal article when this very attractive man I'd never met before sent me a custard pastry." She laughs softly. "The _garcon_ brought it over, pointed Dylan out to me and said that he said that I needed to eat more. I didn't know whether to be appalled or…" Robin trails off and shakes her head. "No, no, I was only appalled. I thought he was some French ass, but turns out he was an American ass."

Robin's tongue darts out over her lips as she remembers her first view of that fine American ass. Something about Dylan Neal attracted her on a visceral level from the moment he walked over to her table and in his booming American voice invited himself to sit down. She slipped quickly from being appalled to flattered and very, very attracted.

"Love at first sight?"

Robin tilts her head and looks past Patrick as she thinks about it. "No," she says softly. She looks thoughtful for a moment, but then her expression closes off. That was not a subject she was prepared to talk about with Patrick. "When was the last time you saw Dylan?"

"My mother's funeral." Patrick shrugs, but the serious look on his face belies the unconcerned gesture. As does his physical turning away from her.

"And then you decided to quit racing." Robin's voice is filled with realization. She had momentarily fit the pieces together when he told her about his choice, but then was distracted by the kissing. Her tongue darts out again, this time countering a strong desire to experience those kisses again.

"It was about that time." Patrick shifts in his seat, still avoiding her gaze. "When were you two supposed to get married?" He looks at her from the corner of his eye.

"Last August. It was going to be very small, just a few close friends, family. I hadn't even gotten around to inviting Uncle Mac when I, we, decided…" Robin waves her hand meaningfully.

Patrick nods and looks down. He starts to wonder if he knows Robin Scorpio at all. Then again, he grins, he knows her well enough to know she always finds a way to make him eat his words. He had a feeling that regardless of what else happened on this trip he'd be treated to the special brand of Robin Scorpio comeuppance - subtle and effective.

"What are you smiling about?" Robin is once again dazed by Patrick's quicksilver mood changes.

"Just thinking that I'd better have a really big appetite." He pats his stomach and stretches his long legs out in front of him.

Robin looks at him like he's crazy and goes back to her crossword puzzle and trying to find a four letter word for essence of life. Amor.

>>>>>>>

"How is he?" Patrick asks when Robin hangs up the airport phone. He hands her a hot coffee and has two croissants in a bag waiting for them. They have just over half an hour before their connecting flight boards.

"He's out of surgery, but in critical condition. He hasn't woken up and they expect to have to have to operate again. He's broken every limb, some ribs, ruptured his spleen and he has a head injury and some burns. It was apparently a pretty horrific crash."

"I saw it on the news just now," Patrick says quietly and dips his head. "There were two cars. The other drive didn't make it, Graham Ellis."

"Did you know him, too?" Robin asks and looks up into Patrick's distressed face.

"No. What about his spine, neck?" Patrick asks.

Robin nods in confirmation to his supposition. "They don't think he'll be paralyzed." They both know that it means that while vertebrae were broken, if it healed properly it was not a in locale sure to cause paralysis. Now, only time would tell. It was the unconsciousness that was more alarming at this point.

In sync they walk over to some tables, as far from the cigarette smoke that fills the waiting areas at Orly Airport as they could find and sit down. Patrick opens the bag and passes Robin a croissant in tissue paper and took out his own. They sit silently for a few minutes drinking their coffee and eating. In that time, the awkwardness that disappeared while still operating under crisis settles back over them.

Robin wants to ask him why he insisted on coming, whether it was because he knew Dylan and his family or if he came for her. At the same time, she doesn't want to hear it because she doesn't want to get sucked back in by him. God, she props her elbow on the table and drops her cheek onto hand; she was seriously on overload right now. "About what happened…?"

"Robin?" Patrick interrupts.

She looks at Patrick and frowns at the interruption.

"There are things we should talk about, but I don't think you're ready to do that. How about for right now we just call a truce? Pretend the last few days never happened?"

"Where's Patrick Drake and what have you done with him?" Robin sits up straight and stares at the man sitting in front of her. He looks like Patrick Drake. He sounds like Patrick Drake. And, dammit, he smells as delicious as Patrick Drake. But the maturity and generosity of the statement was, she sighs, exactly what she saw flashes of in him that kept her reeled in. She tilts her head back and looks up at the high ceiling of the airport.

"It must be the time change." Patrick smirks and pushes her croissant closer to her.

"Must be." Robin looks at him and grins. He was here. That was all that mattered right now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three **

"Oh, Robin!" Jackie Neal, Dylan's mother clasps her hands to her lips and looks on tearfully as Robin lets herself be wrapped into the paternal embrace of her husband Dr. David Neal.

Robin sighs into the embrace. She had missed Dylan's parents a great deal since she and Dylan had broken off their engagement last summer. She pulls out of David's embrace and clasps hands with Jackie.

"We saw it, it was so awful," Jackie says tearfully. "I know he's so proud of his career, but I've always been so afraid…"

"Now, now, Jackie." He put his hand on his wife's back and she unclenches her hands and lets Robin go. "It was so nice of you to come all this way, Robin."

"How is he?" Robin asks as she looks around for Patrick who still stands awkwardly back in the doorway of the waiting room.

"He's holding his own." David looks behind Robin. "Patrick Drake? My god, I certainly didn't expect to see you."

"Mr. Neal." Patrick steps forward and held his hand out. "Mrs. Neal." He nods at the women he only met a few times over the years because she didn't like to attend her son's races. They were cocky and felt the immortality of the young and many a time they had scoffed at their mothers' concerns about their safety. Patrick is hyperaware that Mrs. Neal has been proven right in this instance and he himself had come to the same conclusions when he once and for all chose to be a surgeon.

"Nonsense." David Neal, a big man, dismisses Patrick's proffered hand and pulls Patrick into an embrace. He lets Patrick go and says, "It's good to see you son. How's Noah?"

"He's great, thanks to Robin." Patrick looks at Robin fondly.

Robin was perplexed by the look, but mentally shook it off. "We all work together at General Hospital in Port Charles, New York." It was her way of explaining to her ex-fiancé's parents why she brought another man with her.

"Dylan will be so happy to you see, Patrick," Jackie says.

"Is he awake?" Patrick asks and puts his arm around Robin's shoulders. Robin stiffens, but can't move out of his grasp without being obvious.

"Not yet." Dr. Neal looks from Robin's face to Patrick's and back again in askance. Robin flushes. Partially in embarrassment and a lot in anger.

"Can we see his chart?" Patrick asks.

"It's in French. Maybe you could help translate?" David asks the woman he had really wanted as a daughter-in-law. She nods and he takes his wife with him to find the doctor and get the files.

"What was that for?" Robin rips out of his hold and glares at him.

"This is my arm, Doctor. Maybe you need a refresher biology course?" Patrick licks his lips and smiles down at her. The implication of his desire to be her refresher is an unmistakable gleam in his eyes.

Robin opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a sputter. "You're impossible!" She shakes her head and steps back. Is he seriously coming on to her, right now?

"What's the big deal? We're friends?" He shrugs and puts his hands on his hips and moves a step forward so he's leaning over her.

"They're my ex-fiancé's parents and you're acting like you're my boyfriend. It's inappropriate." Could he really be this dense?

"I think the key word in there is 'ex', Robin. What's the big deal?" His expression is hard, defensive, because he knows that he was staking a claim in front of said "ex's" parents and he knows that he has no right to do so and that shouldn't want to, but it was instinctive. Like it always is with her.

"Oh excuse me, why should you understand any etiquette related to commitment. Big scary word that it is. Why don't you go find a nurse to hit on?" She's angry now. She simply cannot imagine what the hell she keeps seeing in this immature jerk that attracts her.

"Wow." Patrick rears his head back. "I might just go do that! There's a lot better places I could be while I'm here you know." He points his thumb behind him.

"That's why you're here, topless beaches." She throws her hands up in the air. She knew she was pushing him away, but she can't stop the words from leaving her mouth. It hurts that he's not her boyfriend by his own choice, but loves to play the part for whatever sick twisted pleasure he must get out of it. That and the sex.

"Yes, that's it. I traveled thousands of miles with you so I could troll the beaches of the Riviera drooling over topless women. I'll go see about a hotel." He storms out of the room.

"So much for the truce," Robin mumbles to herself and wonders if he was just going to head back to the airport. She hates that she really wants him here.

>>>>>>>>>

Patrick stands outside the hospital and considers getting a cab, returning to the airport and going back home.

"Beautiful sunset here, no?"

Patrick turns his head to find a tall, stacked brunette in a nurse's uniform peering at him from eye level. He lets his eyes wander up and down the well-displayed body. He licks his lips and lets his dimple show. "Very beautiful, Ms…." He licks his lips.

"Thalia. My name is Thalia. You are American, no?"

"I am. I'm Dr. Patrick Drake." He holds out his hand and rubs his thumb over her hand when she acquiesces.

"If you could not tell I am a nurse. The casino pays better, but I am on the waiting list." She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her tight uniform pocket and pulls out a silver lighter and hands it to Patrick.

His smile tight now, he lights her cigarette for her and hands her back her lighter. His interest in her has not lasted past the initial physical appreciation.

"Are you here to work?" She asks after taking a few drags.

"Visiting a patient. Dylan Neal." He looks over to see her reaction.

"Ah, the sexy car driver, yes. He is in a bad way, but I've seen worse. He has very good doctors."

"Tell me about his doctors." Patrick turns towards her, puts his hands on his hips and slips into professional mode.

After pumping the busty Thalia for information on who he needed to speak to in order to get operating privileges, in between trying to avoid her exhales of toxic smoke, he decides to cut Robin some slack. After all, he reasons, he was an even bigger asshole to her while his father was dying so while this wasn't her father, it is her ex-fiancé and she probably feels bad that he dumped her and all that.

Or guilt if she dumped him.

Patrick frowns and rubs the back of his neck as he walks back into the hospital. He's still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Robin was mourning the end of her relationship with Dylan and not necessarily mooning over Jason Morgan and living a cloistered life because of her HIV status as he had assumed. The sudden uncertainty is uncomfortable.

>>>>>>>>

Robin and David Neal look at the MRI's of Dylan's neck. Dr. Neal is a family practitioner and this is not something he is accustomed to dealing with and he is grateful that Robin is here to explain things to him. "What do you think, Robin?"

"A good surgeon can handle this." She just doesn't know if Dr. Lonchret is a good one, though he seems competent. Still, no one in her estimation is good as Patrick Drake. She plans on asking him if he'll operate.

"So your drug protocols won't help?" He is disappointed as he would have preferred his son be treated in a less invasive way than another surgery.

"My protocols are more for the brain and we will use them for the brain injury; but they won't help this kind of damage. After the surgery, there are other things we can do to speed up and improve his chances for a full recovery."

"I'm glad you're here, Robin." David takes Robin's hands.

"Me too. I've missed you, David. I'm so sorry that things just didn't work out with me and Dylan. You were so welcoming…"

"No need to apologize. My wife and I have been married for almost forty years. It's a sacred union and as they say shouldn't be entered into lightly. You two made the right decision if you weren't sure."

"Thank you," Robin whispers, her eyes filled with tears.

"Do you want to see Dylan?"

"Will they let me in?"

"I'll insist."

"I bet you will." Robin remembered his determination very well.

>>>>>>

"Where's Robin?" Patrick walks up to David Neal standing in the hallway outside the ICU unit.

"She's gone in to see Dylan. They won't let her stay long and then you can take her back to the hotel to rest. I can see she's tired. Don't let her run herself down."

"You know?" Patrick asks quietly and glances at the closed doors.

"That she's HIV positive. Of course, she was going to marry my son and she's scrupulously honest. It was quite a shock when she told us."

"Why?" Patrick asks. Robin's HIV has always been such a non-event to him and even his father. His stomach sinks as he admits that he's harassed her endlessly about hiding behind it, but he is now faced with the reality that she faces prejudice and worse from others and is starting to feel bad for his tunnel vision. Still, he wouldn't change any of it because he can see that his pushing has had an affect on her. She has become more open to life, happier, lighter.

"To look at her you'd never know. She doesn't fit the stereotype. Young, female, straight, beautiful, so healthy looking. I'm a doctor, Patrick, I have patients who are HIV positive and I know the stereotype for what it is, but still, I was surprised. She's so full of life, lives with such courage and conviction. My son chose well. I wish it had worked out. Maybe it still can?" David looks at Patrick questioningly.

"What happened?" Patrick asks before he can stop himself.

"My son has never shared the details. I know he was devastated, although he pretended for us that it was a mutual decision. Well, maybe that doesn't make a difference to how much it hurts. How long have you and Robin been involved?"

"Oh, um, Robin and I aren't…we're just colleagues and, I guess, friends." Patrick slips his hands into the pocket of his dark brown slacks.

"And you flew halfway around the world with her?" David Neal claps his strong hand on Patrick's shoulders. His hazel eyes, so like his son, twinkle. "Boy, I've known you since before you knew what to do with a woman. Don't try to fool me."

"I'm not, really. There's nothing between Robin and I. We just…support each other…through…tough…things." Patrick winces. "Jet lag."

"I'll drop the subject. Robin said that the prognosis is good if Dylan has a good surgeon. Does he have a good surgeon, Patrick?"

"He does now. I'm operating."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Her pulse jumped.

For all her training as a doctor and her experience with violence the shock of seeing someone she cared about in a hospital bed was not in the slightest mitigated. It was just as powerful and just as chilling. God, Dylan. Robin's steps falter and she covers her face, her breath hitches. It can't be Dylan. It shouldn't be.

She takes her hands off her face and walks closer, her eyes are filled with tears that threaten to spill over and do close her throat. There was hardly any skin visible with all of the casts and monitoring equipment. It was a blasphemy that this strong, vibrant man was reduced to something akin to an object. It broke her heart. She leans over him and places a soft kiss on his cheek and sits down.

"Your parents are happy I'm here. I'm not so sure you would feel the same way." Robin gently clasps the fingers protruding from a cast that covers his wrist and part of that hand. "But I had to come. I hope by now you know that I do love you and that I always have and that I always will. I won't expect that you understand my reasons for ending things." Robin blows out a breath and reaches out to stroke his cheek. "You couldn't possibly because I realize now that I was so utterly wrong." Her words end in a poorly suppressed sob.

Patrick, standing in the doorway of the room, rears back and presses himself against the wall next to the door and out of sight. His heart races and he bends down and props his hands on his knees. Dylan's medical chart slips from his hand and clatters to the floor. He opens his eyes and picks it up and, after a moment's pause, strides down the corridor back to the nurse's station.

Robin turns her head in reaction to the noise, but not seeing anyone she turns back to Dylan. "I was wrong and I wasn't completely honest with myself or with you." She pauses and wipes the tears that fall down her cheek. "This isn't the time to go into that. I owe you some truths, but you have to wake up and get better to hear them. I think your ego should gain some strength when I tell you that you're going to hear you were right at least a couple of times." She bites her lip and grins through her tears at him.

"Speaking of ego, I recently met your friend Patrick Drake and his father Noah Drake. I work with them both – can you imagine those two egos in the same building? Patrick is here with me, to see you. Frankly, I can hardly imagine you two as friends. You're so much more open than he is. He's a big flirt, but even more guarded than I am with all that glib, cocky humor and crass come-ons…" Robin trails off, looks down and then smiles ruefully and wipes at some more tears that have broken loose.

"I guess he was probably a very different person before he lost his family. That boy is still there underneath the bravado sucking me in." She sighs and looks at her hands and laughs. "You two were probably competing for the same girls and a lot of fun to be around. I wish you two had stayed friends after he gave up racing, he could have used someone as steady and life affirming as you."

Robin stops talking again and a flush flares in her cheeks as she realizes she's sitting at Dylan's bedside waxing on about Patrick. "I'm sorry, Dylan. I'm always doing this to you. So you have to wake up and give me hell for it. You're in good hands, you'll be fine, I'll make sure of that. We're all waiting for you. IJe t'aime mon ami/I." Robin stands up and presses a kiss to his cheek again, as she does so a tear drops off her cheek onto his. She wipes it away with her fingertips and walks out of the room.

Outside the room she drops her head into her hands and lets out a sob, then another. Flashing through her mind is the image of him so healthy and alive when they first met, his face when she gave him back his ring and him now. It's unbearable, she begins to buckle.

"Hey!"

Hands reach out and support her. She gasps and looks up to see Patrick's worried face look at her. "I'm all right. I'm all right." She pulls back and stiffens her spine. She blinks back her tears and licks her lips. She looks Patrick over and realizes he's holding Dylan's chart. "Are you going to operate?" she asks, her voice harsh with grief.

He nods, still looking worried.

Robin breathes a sigh of relief. "I was going to ask if you would." She steps forward and puts her hand on his arm. "He couldn't be in better hands. When are you going to operate?" She looks up into his dark eyes and feels a shaft of desire for him. Hero worship, she tells herself, but the desire doesn't diminish. Whatever Patrick was thinking before clears from his eyes and she sees his eyes soften and sharpen into the same lust she saw that night in her apartment. It takes her breath away. The guilt and confusion inside her eases.

He is the first to look away. "I wanted to get your opinion on when you think he'll be stable enough for the next surgery." Patrick looks at the chart, avoiding her eyes.

"I recommended a couple of drugs to be administered over the next twenty-four to thirty hours so he'll be more stable for surgery. We'll do new MRI's this same time tomorrow and then we can say for certain if the swelling has gone down enough." Robin stops and waits for him to finish his notations on the chart. "You sure you want to do this?"

"The surgery or taking your advice?" He looks up at her now, an impish smirk on his face.

"Both. Here." She takes the chart and re-writes his notes into French and Italian so that the nurses can read them even if they're not proficient in English, or chicken scratch. As she does she feels her grief begin to abate, as it always does in his presence. "How about we go get some dinner and a good night's sleep?" She looks up at him, once again feeling wonder and relief that he was there with her. The feeling is instantly followed up by the sensation of falling and she steps back, careful now that she's on a slippery slope and prone to get sucked back into his web of charm. She licks her lips and looks down the hall trying to get her feelings under control. 

Just then Patrick's stomach growls.

Robin looks back at him and laughs. "Come on. I know some good places to eat. Did you find us a hotel?" she asks.

"Um, no, I got distracted." He takes back the chart and slips it back into the rack by the door.

"What was her name?" Robin shoots him a knowing look. That was just the reminder she needed.

"You told me to!" he reminds her in a petulant tone that is belied by the grin on his face.

She rolls her eyes and walks away. He looks her up and down and licks his lips before following.

>>>>>>>

"So all it took was him sending you a pastry?"

"All it took for what?" Robin smiles and dips her spoon into the custard she was having for dessert. She's actually impressed with Patrick's restraint. She knows he's been chomping at the bit for more information about her and Dylan, he's been hinting at it all through dinner and their walk through the narrow, hilly streets of Monaco, but she has been playing deliberately oblivious and getting a wicked kick out of it. It's not often she feels in the driver seat with this man.

"How did Dylan get from cheesy come-on to engaged?" Patrick makes a frustrated sound and takes a sip of his coffee.

"First of all, Dylan does not engage in cheesy come-ons."

"Please, he practically taught me. And the pastry thing, cheesy." Patrick gives her a very confident look.

"Actually it was very thoughtful, not to mention delicious." Robin swirls her spoon in the custard and grins. She knows it's driving him crazy that she is defending the move, which was kind of cheesy, though she'd never admit it to Patrick.

"You said you were appalled," Patrick reminds her smugly.

"Okay fine. I was momentarily appalled, then I appreciated his, um, originality." Robin licks her lips and gave Patrick a raised eyebrow look that she thought he'd surely understand. He doesn't miss it.

"You thought he was hot! I'm hot and it took you months to cut me a break." He's almost chuckling at their typical exchange.

"Dylan was hot because I said so, not because he said so." Robin rolls her eyes and digs in for another spoonful of heaven.

"It had to be more than that he was hot for you to end up engaged and living together?" The last part is a question.

"We lived together." She stops and looks at him from under her lashes. "We moved in together about a month after we met." She waits in glee for his reaction.

Patrick's jaw drops. "You're lying!" he accuses.

Robin shakes her head, her grin wider now.

"How in the world did that happen?" He shakes his head in shocked awe. "You completely surprise me, Dr. Scorpio."

"He swept me off my feet. It was the off-season and he had a lot of time on his hands. He took me to the track where he practiced, he sent me flowers, he." She bites her lips and leans in confidentially. "He wrote me poetry. It was all pretty much copied from Shakespeare and my favorite poet, but it was the effort you know. He wanted me and he let me know it in terms I could relate to. On a level I could relate to." She looks Patrick straight in the eye.

Patrick dips his head and feigns interest in his coffee. "So it was because he made romantic gestures and wanted commitment?" He looks back up, his face attempting to convey dismissal, but the intensity in his eyes belies the attempt.

"It was Dylan and the fact that he did and wanted the same things I did. It was just living together and taking it one day at a time on where we were going. It had been years since I left Port Charles and Jason. I was ready to put my heart on the line, I ached for it." She tilts her head and looks Patrick. "Not just any guy would be able to make me throw caution to the wind like that. It didn't even feel like leaping before I looked, it just felt right. I wasn't afraid there would be any terrible consequences." Robin rubs her palm over the white tablecloth on the small table at the outdoor café where they stopped for dessert and coffee. She's just beginning to see why she felt so safe with him and she's deeply uncomfortable and fearful about those reasons.

"Were you right about that?" Patrick asks.

"I was very, very right and very, very wrong." Robin's eyes are sad.

Patrick's chest aches, though he can't say why. The air between them is suddenly heavy. He licks his lips and thinks for a moment. "This is very different than the one time I came to Monaco." He flashes his dimple.

"Different how?" Robin grasps on to his change of subject.

"Well, I was seventeen and with my father. He took me to see the big race. My mother wasn't too pleased that I was missing school, but she let us go. Dad and I had a great time." Patrick licks his lips and grins. "He took me to the topless beaches. I was in adolescent boy heaven."

"Just please tell me you didn't take photos." Robin rolls her eyes.

"Of course I did! It was my duty as a teenaged boy to bring some home for my friends!" Patrick put his hand to his heart as if making a pledge.

"So basically Noah encouraged you to be incorrigible." Robin laughs.

"Every step of the way." Patrick licks his lips again and winks at her. "We were the proverbial apple and tree."

"You still are in a lot of ways," Robin says gently.

"Coming from the president of his fan club I'll take that as a compliment." He sticks his tongue out.

"Where did you get that idea from anyway?" She shakes her head and laughs.

"You're always cheering him on and taking his side." Patrick scowls at her now.

"I'm not a fan, I just understand him. A lot of people would say I deserve HIV and AIDS, that I did this to myself; just as Noah believes he ruined his own health. The truth is he couldn't handle his grief for his wife or abandoning his son." Robin looks down for a moment and then up at Patrick who is looking at her intently. "I tried to kill myself after Stone died," she whispers.

Patrick is shaken by the disclosure and he swallows hard. He can't think of anything to say.

"I understand your father, Patrick, but I did everything I did as much for you as for him. I know how it feels to lose your parents, to not have that unconditional love to support you through life. I was lucky because I had Uncle Mac after they were gone. It seemed like you didn't have anyone. You had the chance to get that back and I couldn't not do everything I could to get that for you. For you, Patrick." Robin's voice is raw in its sincerity and it slices through Patrick's heart.

Patrick blows out a breath and leans back in his chair and studies the woman sitting in front of him. His eyes are swimming with tears and his stomach aches. He nods, licks his lips and looks down.

Robin watches his struggle for a moment. "We should go to the hotel." She puts her spoon down. She doesn't expect him to say anything. She wishes just as hard that he would as she does that he doesn't.

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

Adult Sexual Content...

**Five **

"Nice room," Robin says inanely as she and Patrick walk into her room at the Palace-Ambassador Hotel.

The walk back to the hotel had been quiet, but comfortable, but the relaxed air disappeared the moment Robin put her key card in the door and Patrick walked in after her carrying their luggage.

"Very nice." Patrick puts her bag down on the ground and looks around, his hands on his hips. They are in the suite sitting room, the door to the bedroom seems to stand out like it is lit by a neon sign and they both noticeably avoid looking at it and each other.

Patrick stops his intent inspection of the room when he sees the adjoining door to his room. He turns his head and shoots Robin a sly look before walking over to the door and checking the lock.

Robin rolls her eyes and walks over to the balcony door and opens it. She sticks her head out and looks to the left. She sighs and comes back inside, leaving the door open to catch the Mediterranean breeze. As she expected, their balconies are adjoined, meaning either one of them could wander over to the other's room at any time. The thought causes a fluttery feeling in her stomach.

"Well, good night." Robin looks at him expectantly.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" Patrick licks his lips and grins at her.

"You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours, I at least caught some sleep on the plane and I'm tired," she says reasonably.

"Don't forget to take your meds." Just as he finishes speaking her alarm goes off inside her purse. Startled, Robin picks her purse up from one of the side tables and turns it off. She frowns as she wonders if that was just a coincidence or if he kept track. He'd know the schedule from when he was her doctor during the epidemic. "Have a good night, Patrick," she says softly and looks up at him. She can't decipher his expression.

Patrick licks his lips. "Good night, Robin." He picks up his bag and opens the adjoining door and walks through to his room.

Robin turns around and pulls her medicine out of her bag. She walks over to the minibar and puts the bag down, intending to take a bottle of water when she hears steps. She turns and sees Patrick striding back into the room and up to her. Her eyes widen. Her throat is too dry to ask what he's doing and she doesn't have to because his intentions are written all over his determined face.

"I forgot something." He looks at her intently, but then in a gentle move that contrasts with the obvious tension emanating from him, he brackets his fingers around her mouth and tilts her head back. "Good night," he whispers and presses his lips to hers.

Robin's heart skips a beat and she trembles from the tender touch.

When she doesn't resist, Patrick deepens the kiss. Then deeper. When her hands come up to cover his he opens her lips with his own and slides his tongue into her mouth. His tongue sweeps inside, tasting her, custard, coffee and the wine she had with dinner. A groan rises from deep in his throat when he tongue meets his own and she leans forward into the kiss. Her fingers grasp at his as they devour each other.

Time ticks past.

Patrick is the one to break the kiss he started. He pulls back, panting slightly and presses his forehead against hers.

"Goodnight. Have sweet dreams." He gives her one more peck and strides back into his room, closing the adjoining door with a decided snick.

Robin is left standing with her fingers touching her tingling lips.

>>>>>

Patrick dumps his bag on his big, empty bed and puts his hands on his hips. His breathing is still ragged. He didn't want to stop with a kiss. He dips his head. He didn't want to start with a kiss. She was supposed to be out of his system now. His unsated aching inarguably says she's not. With a frustrated grunt he unbuttons his slacks and pulls his zip down, groaning as his hard on is finally given room. He's been hard since dinner and only gotten harder watching her lips and tongue toy with her custard. It took all his restraint not to press her against the couch and take her just now. She is definitely not out of his system yet.

He pushes his pants and underwear down his lean hips and kicks off his shoes and clothes at the same time. His button down shirt soon joins the pile. He sits down on the side of the bed and looks up at the ceiling. His hand wraps around his dick and he shudders at the touch because in his mind it's Robin who's touching him.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes. He's a man, he masturbates. No matter how active his love life is he masturbates. He's just never masturbated so continuously to the image of one woman since Alyssa Milano and he hadn't known her. And he definitely never masturbated so much to a woman once he's had her, except with the "remember-when-she-did-that" kind of imagery.

But here he is again, Robin's scent in his nose, the taste of her on his lips and tongue and his back arching, his balls aching, his breathing ragged and the her name smothered in his throat. Suddenly, his movements slow and he pushes his bag out of the way as he backs up to sit against the headboard.

He sees his first look at Robin that night. She returned his call from the airport and he got to her place just after she did. She's tired, sweaty and glowing. The moment she opens the door his lips are on hers and he backs her into the apartment, closing the door with a swift kick. The kiss goes on and on, then she pulls back.

"I need to take a shower. Alone." She tacks on at the gleam in his eyes.

Patrick licks his lips and gives her a heated once over.

"Do you want to stay and, uh, have dinner?" She runs her fingers through the hair he's mussed even more than it was when he got there.

"I'll order us something?" He doesn't want to wait for her to cook or bother cooking himself. He just wants her.

He orders delivery and finds a bottle of wine in her small, but impressive collection and opens it to breathe. By the time she's out of the shower he has two glasses poured, music playing and the lights set for seduction. He's done pretending, he hopes she is too. If she doesn't want this, him, she can kick him out now.

She comes out of the bedroom dressed in flannel pajama bottoms in blue and white checks and a white, ribbed tank top. He can see the outline of her pert breasts and her hard nipples. His breath hitches and he hardens. Her hair is wet and her eyes dark. She stops and looks at the wine, the lights and then at him. Her tongue darts out over her lips and she visibly steels herself.

Then she walks over to him on the couch and stands looking down at him. Their knees are touching.

"Are you throwing me out?" he asks in a deep, husky whisper.

She shakes her head and straddles him, digs her fingers into his hair and kisses him. Greedily tastes him. Gives herself to him.

Patrick's hand tightens on his arousal and his strokes become faster as broken images flash through his mind. Clothing being strewn around the living. The taste of her damp skin. Carrying her to the bed. Her unzipping his pants and pulling off his shirt and making him model for her. The touch of her tongue on his chest. Her pulling him down to the bed. His mouth on her nipples and her ragged moans. Sliding inside her tight, heat. Over and over and over. Their broken cries and uncontrollable contractions.

His hot seed erupts in his hand, coating his hand and stomach and mingling with his sweat. His ragged cry of "Robin" still echoing in his ears. No, she's not out of his system.

He closes his eyes and reminds himself that she's still in love with Dylan Neal. He just needs to get her out of his system. He has no choice.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Six **

Robin knocks on the adjoining door, a moment later Patrick opens it already dressed for the day. "Dylan woke up this morning. We should go." She runs her eyes over his casual outfit and her breath catches. She looks back into his smug grin and rather than being offended she's amused. It's just so Patrick.

"Did you eat breakfast?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with dare in response to her open admiration of him. She ignores it.

"I did. I'm ready to go." Not that she's eager now that the moment is here. She hasn't spoken to Dylan since she called him to tell him she was staying in the States. He had been hurt and angry and asked her to not call him anymore. At the time it was all about Jason. Now, she looks at the man standing in front of her, it's about the man who has once again traveled halfway around the world to support her as much as she wishes it wasn't. She shakes her head and grips her purse strap. Two days ago she was cursing him for running out on her and then last night they shared a companionable dinner. And a hot kiss that haunted her dreams.

Patrick watches as Robin's expressive face betrays her confused thoughts and his eyes narrow. "I'll be right back." Patrick walks back into his room and grabs his wallet and sunglasses. He licks his lips and firmly reminds himself he had promised he would not kiss her again, however much he wants to. He turns and walks back into Robin's room with a placid expression on his face. "Let's go," he says.

She nods and leads the way.

>>>>>>>

Robin stands in the doorway and looked at Dylan whose eyes were closed. She takes a breath and walks over to him.

"Hi Robin." Dylan opens his dark blue eyes. "Mom and Dad told me you were here. Thanks for coming."

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to be here." Robin dips her head for a moment before looking him in the eyes again. "I wasn't sure I would be welcome. That last time we spoke…"

"I was an ass." Dylan opens his hand and touches the hand Robin had rested next to his. She moves her hand into his. "I was still hurt and your moving back home made it all final. Especially because it was for the man who always seemed to be in the relationship with us."

"I didn't move back to Port Charles for Jason."

"But you went there in the first place for him."

"To treat him medically, that's all." Robin blows out a breath and looks up and out the window at the beautiful sunny day. "Seeing Jason, treating him, living in the same town as him again made me realize that…."

"You don't need to tell me. You're still in love with him." He tries to pull his hand away. Robin does not let him.

"No. It made me realize that I'm not in love with him." She closes her eyes. "I was comparing all of my relationships to what he and I had" She opens her eyes and faces him straight on. "It was wrong of me and it was just a way to avoid being hurt that much again. After Stone, after Jason I just closed off that part of myself. I didn't think I could survive that kind of pain again. It wasn't fair to you."

"Does that mean we have a chance, Robin?" he asks, unable to keep the flare of hope out of his eyes and voice.

She shakes her head and tenses up. "Maybe we should wait to talk about this. I'm sorry." She runs her free hand over her forehead. She hated hurting anyone, she hated hurting him. She shouldn't have brought it up while he was in the hospital.

"Robin, tell me. Is there someone else? Someone who's made you want to open up?" His voice is urgent, he squeezes her hand.

"Yes." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Patrick Drake?" When her eyes widen in surprise he smiles ruefully. "My father told me he was here with you, that it looked like you two were involved."

"There's nothing…we're not…"

"But you're in love with him. He's the one and I wasn't." Dylan's lip presses into a firm line.

Tears fill Robin's eyes. She cannot bring herself to lie to him, therefore she cannot lie to herself anymore. "I do love him. I am in love with him." Her entire body trembles and a tear slides down her cheek.

"You've never said that out loud, have you?" His voice is gentle now.

Robin shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Dylan. I do love you. I do." She clasps his hand with both of hers now and her eyes plead with him to believe her.

"I know. Just not enough to marry me." His voice is resigned.

"You deserve a wife who can…"

"Don't go there, Robin. You don't need to. I want you to be happy, Robin. I want both of us to be happy." He looks up at her, his eyes are more peaceful than she'd seen them in a long time. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I hope Patrick can make you happy."

Robin ignores his comment about Patrick. Telling him that Patrick has no intention of making her happy and that she's once again throwing away his love for a man who doesn't want her would serve no purpose. "I owe you that much, Dylan. I never meant…."

"Enough of that. Will you do me a favor?" He grins his charismatic smile at her.

"Anything." Robin smiles through her tears.

"I need you to get something from my apartment."

"Aren't your parents staying there?"

"Too far from the hospital." Dylan rolls his eyes at his mother's typical smothering. "Take Patrick with you if there's time before my surgery, which I understand from my doctor he's performing." At her nod he continued. "I dunno. I used to drive with the guy, the idea of those ham hands in my back." He quirks his dark eyebrows at her.

"He's the best surgeon I've ever seen. I wouldn't settle for less for you. Besides, wasn't he ahead of you in the rankings?" She leans in close to ask and presses a kiss to his cheek. "What is it you need me to get for you?"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven **

"Come on, let me drive." Patrick is practically drooling over Dylan's Midas Excelsior convertible. "I've read about these cars. It's amazing they're still being made. The manufacture has changed hands so many times because of financial problems."

"You can drive on the way back." Robin gets into the car and starts it up.

Shrugging good naturedly, Patrick gets in the passenger seat.

A short time later he licks his lips and grins as he watches Robin's hair blow in the wind as they drove on the cliffs above the Mediterranean coast. She was a smooth driver, which surprises him, as does the ease with which she hugs the curves. She wasn't a conservative slow driver like he had expected. And the glow wasn't just from the sun. She clearly appreciates the car and the ride. He wonders if she had always been this way or if Dylan had taught her this. He shakes off the irritating thought and tilts his head back to look at the sun.

>>>>>>>>>

"Nice place," Patrick comments as he unfolds from the passenger seat and looks up at the high rise where Dylan has his apartment. He turns to see Robin take a ticket from the valet and he admires the view of her in the shorts she had changed into before retrieving Dylan's car. His admiration is cut short when she turns to face him and waves him over.

When they were in the elevator he takes off his sunglasses and folds them into the pocket of his button down shirt. "Did you come here a lot?" He keeps his eyes on the digital read out of floors, but he can see her out of the corner of his eyes. He recognizes the yellow top she's wearing from that night at Jake's. He still wonders why he turned down her offer that night. Was it was because he respected her, because he was upset about the day's events or something else entirely?

He slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocks back on his heels and forces his thoughts back to the moment.

"A few times. Dylan mostly lends the apartment out to other drivers and family and friends. He only stays here when he's training," Robin explains as she leads him down the plush carpeted hallway on which there are only a handful of doors widely spaced from each other.

He whistles when he walks into the apartment and heads straight to the wall-to-wall windows that overlook the coast. "This is gorgeous. Wish Dylan and I had stayed in touch." He turned around, his hands still on his hips. "Then I might have met you sooner."

"Oh, the pleasure that would have been." Robin rolls her eyes and stands clutching her purse and watching him fill up the wide room with his energy.

"You know you were attracted to me from the start." He smirks at her.

"And you would have poached your friend's girlfriend?" She turns and picks up a pile of mail the caretaker had left and sorts through it to see if there was anything Dylan needed or would want to see.

"No." Patrick walks back over to her and puts his hands on her arm to get her attention. "Was that what happened last night?"

"What do you mean?" Robin looks up at him in confusion.

"I mean the kiss. Was I poaching?" He looks at her intently for a moment. "I heard you tell him that you still love him," he reveals in a low tone.

"I do still love him." Robin turns and put the mail back down on the table so she can avoid his gaze. Her heart is pounding in relief that it wasn't another confession of love he had overheard.

"And that the reason you broke up with him was something you were wrong about."

"That was a private conversation." She turns back to him. Her cheeks are red with annoyance and embarrassment.

"Technically it was a conversation since he was unconscious at the time."

Robin rolls her eyes and walks away.

"Where are you going?" he calls after her.

"To get what Dylan asked me to get." She walks up the stairs to the top floor of the three-story apartment and down the corridor, Patrick at her heels.

"Why is it locked?" Patrick asks as he leans at the side of the door watching her fumble nervously with the key.

"When he rents or loans the apartment out the master suite on the top floor is off-limits. It's his private room." She makes an exasperated sound and finally unlocks the door and walks inside.

"So this is where he performed his magic." Patrick walks in and rubs his hands together and pretends the magic never included his Robin. "We learned to French kiss at the same time, did he ever tell you that?" He cocks his head and gives her a secretive smile.

"With each other?" Robin cracks up and drops her purse and the keys on cushioned chair in the seating area closest to the door. The master suite is huge and like in the downstairs one wall is made up of all glass with a deck and a view of the shimmering blue sea.

"Ha ha." Patrick walks more slowly into the room, stopping along the way to study various pieces of art and personal items. He stops when he gets to the side of the kind sized bed. On one side there was a photo of Robin and Dylan. They were sitting in front of a fireplace, she was curled up and leaning against and his arms were around her. She looked, he lifts the picture to take a closer look, happy. Peaceful. He looks over to where she had disappeared into a cavernous walk-in closet. He wants to be the one to make her look like that, he admits.

He puts the photo down and continues to wander around. There were a few more photos. Some with Robin. Some without. The fact that her ex had her photos in his bedroom, albeit one he didn't stay in a lot, was telling. Clearly the guy was still hung up on her, which Patrick had already assumed that from what Dr. Neal had said. At the time he had even resigned himself to it, but it was entirely another thing to see the evidence of the life that she had shared with another man and to see her act so unaffected by it. Now, he was wondering if he was too hasty in giving up.

The real question wasn't how Dylan felt, it was how Robin felt. Wouldn't she have told him just now downstairs if she intended to go back to the other guy? That she hadn't makes Patrick wonder if he still…

"Ow!" Robin's muffled exclamation comes from inside the closet.

"You all right?" Patrick walks over to help. Before he clears the door to the closet she tells him she's fine.

"Something fell on my head." She walks out with a box in her arms.

Patrick takes the box from her and silently asks her if she's all right as she rubs her head. "I'm fine. Put it on the bed. Be right there." She goes over to the dresser and creates a pile of clothing to bring back to the hospital. Patrick keeps his eyes on the box sitting on the bed and pretends not to be bothered by the sight of her so knowingly finding what the other guy needs.

"What's in here?" he asks when she comes back over. He sits down.

"Photo albums," Robin says as she opens the box.

"He wants you to bring him photo albums?" Patrick takes the two albums she holds out and puts one on the bed and begins to sift look through the other as she continues to dig into the full box.

"Baseball cap, Cleveland Indians. Lucky baseball signed by Mickey Mantle." She puts these on the bed and delves back in. "There's a lucky medal somewhere in here."

"And you didn't tell him he doesn't need luck when I'm operating?" Patrick snorts.

Robin chuckles and keeps digging in the box. She knew that Dylan was a sentimental guy, she had even seen some of the things in this box, but she had never been in it herself before. Before she reaches the bottom her hand wraps around a small velvet box, she lets out a small gasp. She knows what it is before she pulls it into the light. She glances over to see if Patrick is looking. She freezes when she sees the expression on his face. He's pale, his dark eyes are wet and his lips are red. He's not looking at her at all, but down at the photo album in his lap, his finger gently stroking on of the figures in the photo.

"Patrick, what's wrong?" She drops the ring box and pushes the box and other stuff away and leans in closer to him. She looks down and her lips form an "oh." She sits down next to him. "That's your mother?" she asks softly and puts her finger on the photo next to his. Patrick nods and swallows. "She's beautiful."

"She was." His voice is jagged with tears.

"Where was this?" Robin moved closer to him and looked at the photo of the Drake and Neal families gathered together at what clearly was a race given the uniforms of the two boys in front and the matching jackets of the fathers. Her heart pounds looking at the young Patrick Drake. He was, as she expected, a heartbreaker even back then. And Noah, too. She bites her lip. Robin slides her finger under Patrick's so she could get a closer look at Matty Drake. He wraps his finger around hers and lets her study his mother.

"You have her nose. And, here, her height." Robin grins at him impishly.

"Hey, I was young. What's your excuse?" Patrick puts his arm around her and rests his head on hers.

Robin puts her hand down underneath the photo. "You know, I've seen this photo before. Before I knew you and Noah." She traces her finger over the figures. The Drake family. Happy. Whole. And clearly in love with each other and life. Noah had his arm around his wife's petite frame and his hand on Patrick's shoulder as Patrick and Dylan hammed it up in front of them and Dylan's parents. Matty had her hand on her son's other shoulder. They were a unit. Her chest tightens as she looks at the family that no longer exists, her gaze goes hazy from tears.

Just a few days ago she had the impossible – her mother and father and her in a room together. It was the most amazing thing and it set her free in so many ways. Patrick was never going to have that again. He was never going to have his mother back. "Oh, Patrick," she says on a sigh.

"Hey." Patrick puts his hand on her chin and turns her to face him. "What?" His expression shows his confusion.

"I'm sorry you lost your mother, Patrick." She bites her lip and a tear slides down her cheek. She turns and puts her hand on his cheek. She feels his breath catch.

"She didn't often come with Dad and me. That was a big race." He clears his throat and reaches up and catches her tear with his fingers.

"Did you win?"

"Of course," Patrick smirks. "Dylan came in second, as usual." His eyes search hers and he traces her cheek and then cups it. His eyes dip down to her lips and then back to her eyes. He had promised he wouldn't, but he can't remember why as he only has to lean down a few inches to press his lips against Robin's and taste her again.

She sighs against his lips and puts her hand on his strong, warm chest. She's the one who intensifies the kiss. The one who rises to her knees and leans into him so that he can wrap his arms around her body. His hands move over her cheeks and into her hair and back again. He feels more tears and doesn't understand what they mean. He doesn't want to think at all, can't think as she moans and wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself into him. His hands slip under her shirt to touch her warm skin. This time the moan is from him. His ears are ringing as she moves under his touch. Her leg slides over his and the photo album falls to the floor and the ringing gets louder.

Ringing? Patrick opens his eyes and pulls back from the kiss. "One of us is ringing," he croaks.

"Huh? What?" Robin moves back, her arms still dangling over Patrick's shoulders. Her tongue darts out to taste him on her lips.

"Ringing." Patrick digs his hand into his pants as Robin moves off him and stands. As he talks to the person on the line she bends down to picks up the photo album and puts it neatly on the bed. She can tell it's the hospital and they'll probably have to leave so she moves to finish quickly.

She looks into the box and finds the lucky medal that Dylan wants and the ring box. She holds the box for a moment and just looks down at it frowning. It was a strange place to put such an expensive piece of jewelry. She's almost tempted to take another look at it.

"Is that yours?"

Robin looks up at Patrick and nods. "Hospital?" She puts the ring box back and begins to pile stuff on top of it again.

"Dylan's tests came back showing he's ready for surgery." Patrick closes his phone and watches her. Would she be packing the ring up again if she wanted it back, he wonders?

"Then we should go. Would you grab the bag of clothes while I put the rest of this back?" She hands him the photo album. Patrick stands mutely and watches her disappear back into the closet. He can still smell her on his skin. Not only does giving up on her no longer seem like a good idea, it doesn't seem possible.

>>>>>

For a photo of the car in this chapter – check out –

http/home.wanadoo.nl/hansefde/html/bodythemarquegb.htm


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Patrick and Robin walk in unison out of the surgical unit towards the waiting room where the Neals and Dylan's friends and colleagues are waiting for news of the surgery.

"You did a great job in there." Robin knows she's poking a sleeping ego giant, but she never withholds credit when credit is due. And credit was definitely due. Patrick had just performed an extremely delicate surgery and did it with ease and flair. Thanks to him, in Robin's opinion, Dylan's rehab would be shorter and his recovery would be better than if anyone else had performed it.

"I figured Dylan would prefer to be able to walk without a hump." Patrick grins smugly. "I'm going to be famous for this. Worldwide, not just in the U.S. My name will be hailed at car races around the globe like I had once planned in a different context."

"I don't think doctors have the same groupies as race car drivers, just speculating." She spreads her hands wide, palms up.

"Hmmm, I thought now that you've experienced the magic you wouldn't be so obsessed with my love life." He reaches over and toys with her hair. She smacks his hand and shoots him a look. He bites his bottom lip and waggles his eyebrows.

"You're a pig."

"And yet you're still madly attracted to me." He clasps her arm and spins her around until she's in his arms. "We have unfinished business, Dr. Scorpio. So now that I've traveled thousands of miles and performed miracle surgery on your beloved ex, how about you concentrate on me?" He's high on the surgery and Robin's hard-earned praise. He's also high on the feel of her in his arms and her glowing smile. He leans down, when she suddenly pulls out of his arms and smoothes down her lab coat. "Why…" He rubs a frustrated hand over the back of his neck.

"Bonjour, Madame," Robin interrupts him and greets the head nurse that is walking down the hall past them. She has a sour look on her face and coldly returns Robin's greeting as she passes by.

Robin looks at Patrick and gives him a look that's half-exasperated and half-amused. She's always misbehaving when it comes to Dr. Patrick Drake. Probably, she surmises, because she was in love and in lust with him and takes leave of her senses when he was involved. The thought sobers her up and she takes a step back. Their unfinished business consisted of him running out on her after sex and acting like a jerk. "Let's go tell everyone the news." She ducks her head and walks past him.

Patrick stands stunned by her lightening quick change of mood for a moment before getting back into step with her.

>>>>>>>>

"Robin, I'm so grateful you were here to help and brought, Patrick. You're such a lovely girl despite your condition."

Patrick's head snaps around as the comment reaches his ears. He has been talking to Dylan's mechanic about the Dylan's car, but the conversation is completely forgotten now. Without bothering to excuse himself he walks over to where Robin is talking with Mrs. Neal. He puts a hand on Robin's shoulder and looks at Mrs. Neal, anger glittering in his eyes. He feels Robin stiffen under his hand and for her sake he bites back an angry retort. "It's been a very long surgery and I'm sure you want to go in and see your son. Robin and I will get out of your hair." He tugs on her shoulder giving her no choice but to go with him or risk a struggle.

"What are you doing?" Robin spins around to face Patrick and demands once they are in the hallway out of ear shot of the waiting room.

"Getting you away from that witch!" Patrick was furious. "How dare she say that to you!"

"I'm used that, Patrick." Robin sighs and looks down.

"That doesn't make it right and I won't put up with that in my presence." Patrick crosses his arms and looked down at her.

"A lot of people feel that way, Patrick. Are you going to take on every single one? Besides, Carly always says things like that in front of you." Robin takes off her borrowed lab coat and smoothes it over her arm.

"You can handle Carly just fine by yourself," Patrick points out.

"And I can handle Mrs. Neal and people like her just fine too. I've been doing it for years." Her tone is resigned.

Patrick watches her for a moment thinking that her handling it wasn't without cost to her.

He uncrosses his arms and plasters on a smile. "Let's go get some dinner. Someplace fun. We deserve it after the magic we just performed." He flashes a dimple.

Robin rolls her eyes, but she smiles.

>>>>>>>>

An hour later Patrick and Robin are sitting in the outdoor area of a fancy seafood restaurant. "What should we toast?" Robin asks.

"My brilliance in the OR?" Patrick licks his lips and looks forward to her riposte.

"To your brilliance in the OR." Robin, on to his game, smoothly resists his temptation to banter. She grins when he pouts in disappointment.

"Wait, Scorpio." Patrick puts a hand on her arm before she can drink. "How about to our adventures?"

Robin grins and nods. "To our adventures." They clink glasses and each take a sip of the light, French white he had ordered for them.

"We've had a lot of them you and me. To think I thought you were staid and boring and lived a cloistered life since you left Port Charles." Patrick shakes his head and smiles.

"You know what happens when you make assumptions." Robin wrinkles her nose at him.

"Yeah, yeah. This trip I came along fully prepared to eat my words."

"Oh, then you won't need dinner." Robin shrugged and takes another sip of her wine.

Patrick leans back in his chair and watches the play of light over Robin's face. She looks up from her perusal of the menu and looks at him curiously so he cleared his throat and thought of something to say. "About before, what you said."

"What did I say?" She scrunches her face in confusion.

"About Carly. You're right, I let her comments slide. It never occurred to me that you needed defending and figured if I did it would make things worse. I really just wish you would ignore her. As much as I enjoy the fire." Patrick's lips quirk and he shakes his head.

"So why did Mrs. Neal's comments bother you so much?"

"She knew my mother. My mother would have never put up with that." He tilted his head and looked at her. Somehow it always came back to his mother when he was with Robin. It was getting easier and easier to think about his mom without the pain that usually came with it. He had Robin to thank for that. A part of his heart thawed at the realization.

Robin's smile softens. She can't help but be drawn to Patrick when he lets her in like this. Unbidden, the memory of their kiss in Dylan's bed comes to her and she blushes and looks back down at the menu.

"What's wrong?" Patrick leans forward across the small table.

"Nothing." Robin shakes her head. "The shrimp special sounds delicious."

"Robin. What's bothering you? We should talk about it."

Robin looks up at him and closes her menu. "We shouldn't have been kissing on Dylan's bed." She sighs. "We shouldn't be kissing at all." She looks away.

"Maybe we should have that talk now." Patrick puts his elbows on the table and props his chin in his hands.

Robin looks at him and makes a spur of the moment decision. "Not tonight. Not now. Let's do like you said and have fun." She licks her lips and smiles.

"Are you going to be able to let it go tonight?" He just looks at her.

"Yes." She looks at him curiously. "Are you?"

"Of course, of course." Patrick picks up his glass and licks his lips. "To us having fun tonight." He gives her a heated look before taking a sip.

"To us having fun tonight," Robin echoes. She takes a sip and then turns her attention back to the menu. All the while conscious that Patrick is just watching her with an expression on his face she has never seen before.

>>>>>>>>

"Isn't this fun?" Patrick leans down and whispers in her ear. They're walking on a beach, their shoes left back somewhere behind them. His arm is around her waist and he's using his other hand to tease the skimpy strap of her wine red dress off her shoulder. They're both tipsy on the wine and champagne they consumed with and after dinner. His pants are rolled up his strong calves. 

"Definitely fun." She looks up at him and their noses bump. "Bump!" She laughs and grasps at his shirt. The moonlight lights up her face.

Patrick laughs and lifts her off her feet. She screams and grabs onto his shoulders. "Don't you dare throw me in!" She squeals as he runs towards the shore. He stops when the water is up above the cuffs of his pants. He slowly slides his hand out from under her legs and guides her body to slide down his. He holds her against him, leaving her feet dangling over the water. He cups her ass and groans. They look into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"This is definitely fun." His husky voice sends shivers through her body and she tightens her arms around his neck. "Cold?" he asks. She shakes her head. "You sure?" She tightens her arms at the look in his eye and then, looking mischievous, nods. "Let me warm you."

He initiates a kiss that has her panting into his mouth and she wraps her legs around his waist. His hardness presses into her center sending sparks of lust through her body, and his. The kiss goes on and on as the waves crash past them. "I want you. I need you."

"Take me back to the hotel."

TBC 


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine **

He slides the straps of her dress off her shoulders and groans when her bare breasts are revealed to him.

They are standing in front of his bed. The only light is the moon shining in from the window. He cups her breasts and leans down to kiss her as her dress falls to the floor. "Are you sure?" he asks, licking his lips, his face and voice urgent with need.

In answer, she unbuttons his shirt and spreads her hands over his firm chest and down his stomach. Then she unbuttons and unzips his slacks and pushes them down his thighs. She cups his arousal through the cotton of his black boxer briefs and he presses into her hand before he lifts her up and places her on the bed. He pulls off his shirt and then crawls next to her as she waits for him against the pillows.

He lies there looking at her and slides her fingers into her hair. He leans in and their lips gravitate together. They kiss and kiss as their bodies inch closer together. Their legs are entwined when he begins to nip down her chin, her neck to her collarbone. She arches into him, throws her head back and holds on to him as he slides down and takes her sensitive nipple into his mouth. His ministrations elicit her gasps of pleasure as he teases one breast then the other. His hands move up and down her back, touching every piece of bare skin he can reach.

"Are you prepared?"

He lifts his head and mutters something about being a boy scout. He kisses her one more time before getting up and digging into the bag that sitting on a chair from the window.

Robin props herself up on her arms and watches him. Her lips are swollen, her eyes bright, her hair mussed and her bare legs strewn out in front of her as she watches him. He asked if she was sure and she was. That decision had been made over dinner. Whatever the future might hold she wanted one more night with this man; one more night of feeling alive like she had never felt with anyone else. She begins to laugh as he pulls a stream of condoms out of the bag like a magician pulling a snake out of a peanut can. Her laugh is infectious and he laughs with her as he walks back over to the bed and drops the stream of protection into her waiting hands like a waterfall. He puts his knee on the bed and crawls towards her.

He puts his hands on either side of her body and looks down at her laughing countenance. "You are so beautiful." He bites his lip and his heart speeds up at the joy in her eyes.

"You make me feel beautiful." She slips her legs between his and reaches up for him and pulls him down to her. "Make love to me, Patrick."

That's what they do. Tasting and touching every part of each other. Driving each other mad until he is finally driving into her as they look into each other's eyes. As she breaks apart around him she wants to tell him she loves him, the need swamps her, instead she cries his name.

He realizes that he won't be able to let her go. She will never be out of his system.

Later, they are once again entwined together as they fall asleep. The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is the feel of him caressing her hair and the press of his lips on her forehead.

>>>>>>>>>>

Patrick untangles himself from Robin's naked body and slides off the bed. He pulls the blanket over her and watches as she frowns and rolls over, but does not wake up. He can't sleep. His mind is too jumbled with thoughts of Robin and how things have changed between them and inside him.

He stops to dig into his bag pull out a pair of shorts. He slides them on and then steps out onto the balcony. He stands at the railing and breathes in the fresh, moist air.

Something has shifted. Even the tiled floor of the balcony feels different underneath his bare feet. It has been shifting ever since I first made love to her, he thinks. No, he amends, since the moment I met her.

First it was having his father back in his life. Then it started to get more difficult to be flip and shallow. Then it was the need to get a reaction from her, then the need to see her and the seeking her out when she wasn't around. Then it was the need to have her spend time with him, even resorting to pimping out his profession to get his way with her. Then it was the insatiable desire to learn everything about her. Sex. I told myself it was sex, he tells himself with an ironic shake of his head. He knows now it was so much more than that.

He moves away from the railing and sits down on a lounger and looks up at the moon.

Patrick has had a lot of sex with a lot of women. He knows how it feels to have amazing sex and he knows how it feels to have shallow sex. Being with Robin was not shallow sex. He can't fool himself about that anymore. He was invested. He didn't want to let go and walk away when the sex was over. He couldn't even picture wanting to anytime soon. Maybe not ever?

"Can't sleep?" The question startles Patrick out of his thoughts. He turns his head to see Robin wearing his discarded shirt and he holds his arms out for her. "The bed was empty without you," she says as she settles in his lap and puts her head against his shoulder.

He strokes her hair and thinks what a fool he's been. A few days ago they shared a passion that knocked his socks off. She gave him her body and he just threw it away. He had come over to apartment to apologize and to be honest to cajole her into sleeping with him for a while longer without commitment. The next moment he's in Monaco hearing her tell her an ex-fiancé he's never heard of that she still loves him and he feels like he's been punched in the gut. His initial instinct was to back off, move on. Now, he knows that he can't and he won't.

Words like love, long haul, commitment still sting on his tongue, but he knows that he can't have her without them. And once Patrick Drake makes up his mind to have something he does what it takes to get it. She is what he wants.

She sighs against him and his thoughts go back to what Mrs. Neal said to her earlier and he thinks that's what she is thinking about too. "When did the Neals find out you're HIV positive?" he asks.

Robin frowns and tries to see Patrick's expression in the dark. The question doesn't bother her, it just surprises her. It was not like Patrick to delve so deep. "We didn't tell them until after we got engaged." She looks down at her hands. "They were surprised. Shocked. They had been so pleased that Dylan was marrying an American doctor. Dr. Neal got over it pretty quickly, being a doctor himself I guess."

And a better person, Patrick thinks. "Mrs. Neal?" Patrick prompts.

"She was upset for a variety of reasons." He feels Robin's shrug.

"You mean prejudiced!" The loudness of Patrick's voice startles them both. Robin smiles slightly at his outburst.

"Dylan's her son and she has dreams for child. She wants her son safe. She wants grandchildren. It's not right or wrong and I can't blame her for it. I think about the same things when I'm with someone. Will I infect them? Do they want to have children someday?" She does not say the other question out loud, what will it be like for them when they watch me die?

"There are methods for safe sex and you can have children, Robin. The odds of transmitting HIV to your fetus with an undetectable viral load are extremely small. And there are safe protocols, birthing methods. There's no reason you can't have children, Robin." Patrick clears his throat. "And there's always adoption. If that's what you want to do."

Robin's jaw drops at Patrick's discourse. She knew he had researched safe sexual practices, but this is something entirely different. It makes her uneasy. It also makes her hopeful and fearful.

"There's more to consider here than what I want. I have to think about the child – the risk, the legacy, the emotional pain…I don't know if it's right for me."

"It sounds like you're already a mother." His voice is gentle and he caresses her cheek.

Robin's face softens at the statement. "It's moot anyway because it's not something that I can even consider unless and until I get married." Robin cuddles deeper into Patrick.

"So that's not why you and Dylan broke up?" he asks.

"No, but it was part of it. I just didn't love him enough to marry him," she admits quietly. Robin and Patrick sit silently for a few minutes. "I don't want you to get the wrong impression. Mrs. Neal was never anything but gracious to me, she just had her reservations and she spoke frankly to me about them. I respected that."

"My mother wouldn't have cared. I know my father doesn't." Patrick doesn't know why he said it; it just felt important for him to say. Robin says nothing in response. "I am really sorry that I hurt you the way I did."

Robin sits up and looks down at him. She can't be that close to him and have this conversation and it was time to have it. She knew she shouldn't have given herself to him tonight, not now that she's admitted she loves him. But she wanted one night, one more night before he figured it out and cut his losses. She stands up and walks over to the chair facing him. "I accepted your apology already, Patrick. I knew you weren't offering me a commitment, Patrick. It was just your running out the way you did. The way you acted after…"

"I know, Robin! I know," he finishes more quietly and sits up. "I screwed up. I'm trying to explain to you why."

Robin nods and bites her lip. She motions for him to continue.

"You said you knew better than to expect commitment from me."

"I meant it. I don't expect it after tonight either."

Patrick shoots her a look that reminds her not to interrupt him. "I thought I meant it too." He shakes his head and gives her a charming smile. "When I woke up that morning there was nowhere else I wanted to be and no one else I wanted to be with. I started out the night before thinking that if we finally made love I would be over you. Instead, I just wanted you more and it scared the crap out of me. I wasn't ready for it yet and like a coward I ran and deliberately set out to push you away. I hurt you and that's what I'm sorry about, for not being honest and for hurting you."

Robin swallows before she can form a coherent thought. "What are you saying?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. Her heart pounds in hope and fear.

"I'm saying that I still want you, Robin."

"Sex," She snaps impatiently and half turns away.

Patrick bends forward and cups her face, his bare feet press into the tiled floor. "Not just sex." His eyes dart over her face and then he looks her in the eyes again. "I'm saying that I want to give us a shot at something more than." He stops and licks his lips. "That long haul thing. I want to do that." He nods urgently. "With you. I want us. I want an us."

Robin closes her eyes and swallows. Her breathing is shallow and quick. Tears prick her eyes. "Why now, Patrick?" She opens her eyes and unconsciously leans closer to him.

"It's not just now." He drops his hands and clasps hers, which are lying limping in her lap. "I just stopped fighting it. I can't anymore. I won't." He strokes her hand with his thumb.

No words are said. She takes his measure in the moonlight. Right now everything seems possible. But she's not sure about in the morning light. She wants him and the force of the need threatens to overwhelm her. She pulls her hands out of his and crosses her arms around herself like a shield.

"And if I open myself to that tonight what happens tomorrow morning?" She shakes her head. "I don't think you would deliberately lie to me. I don't think that. But what if you get scared again? What nurse or barmaid or Carly will you run to get away from me? I don't know if I can risk that." Her own cowardice made her sick to her stomach, but she couldn't stop the words from spewing out of her mouth, couldn't control the terror streaking through. The terror of actually having what she wanted and then possibly losing it.

Patrick looks away, disappointment clearly illuminated on his face by the moonlight. "Then I know what I have to do."

"What?" Robin's voice is a broken whisper. She braces herself.

"Fight for you." He turns and looks at her, his eyes stubborn and hard. "I'm going to be the one who doesn't walk away. I won't give up, Robin."

One part of her is screaming for her to run like the wind. The other part holds out hope that someday he will love her back. But from her perspective his sudden change of heart was too easy, too quick. She can't trust it, therefore she can't trust herself. The part that says "run" has won for the night. "I need to think about this." Robin nods and then stands up to go to her own room.

"I won't give up, Robin."

His voice reaches her as she closes the sliding glass door behind her and she walks over to the bed and sinks down. It felt different being with him this time knowing for certain that she loves him. She curls up on the pillows and feels more alone than she's felt in a long time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten **

Robin sips her café as she walks through the streets of Old Town. She had gotten here before the sun had fully risen and before many of the stores had opened and tourists began to appear. The old world European feel of the town soothed her tattered nerves this morning. It all felt like a long way from Port Charles and the complications moving home had brought into her life. For a little while she had been able to pretend that she's just a tourist here on vacation, but time passed quickly and she knows she has to make her way back to the hospital where she'll have to talk to Dylan and see the one she had left the hotel early to avoid – Patrick.

I"I'm going to be the one who doesn't walk away. I won't give up, Robin."/I

With a sigh she tosses her empty cup into a trash receptacle and walks around the Italian gothic façade of the law court and towards the gardens around the visitor's center. She had spent some time there this morning staring out over the waters of the Mediterranean Sea and thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. The hours of respite are over. She has choices to make.

>>>>>>>>>

"Knock knock?" Robin peeks her head into Dylan's hospital room. She is pleased to see that he's now propped up and the color in his face is much improved. She tells him so when she reaches his side.

"Patrick already took all the credit." He uncurls his hand and looks down at it and then back up at her, inviting her to hold his hand.

"He would." Robin smiles and complies. "Are you in a lot of pain? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine. As fine as I can be." He shifts slightly and grimaces. "I hate being cooped up. You know that." He looked at her intently.

She could tell he had something on his mind, that there was something specific he was waiting for her to say. She just didn't know what it was. It makes her uneasy. She looks down at their joined hands and then back up at his face. She used to be able to read him, the disconnect is unnerving.

"Did you find it?" he asks.

"The medal? I gave that to you last night." Robin frowns in concern that he might be having problems with his memory.

"Not the medal. Something else." His blue eyes implore her to understand.

Robin frowns. He hadn't asked her to bring him anything else….her eyes widen as she realized what he was referring to. He had meant for her to find her engagement ring. She blinks and swallows. Dylan sighs and his expression turns angry. "I found the ring, Dylan. Why did you want me to find it like that? It doesn't change anything." Dylan curls his fingers away from hers. "I don't understand, I thought…"

"I guess I thought that if you were reminded of the life we led, saw our bedroom, the pictures, the ring, you'd come to your senses now that you're over the hit man. And you'd realize that a playboy like Drake turned into could never make you happy." Dylan laughs bitterly. "Guess I'm still coming in second to everyone with you. That medal, that was from a race I came in second with Patrick Drake. I thought maybe it was my turn to win."

Robin's eyes fill with tears, she reaches out to touch him but he utters a sharp "Don't!" and she pulls back, stricken. Her heart pounds and her breath quickens. She hates that she is the cause of someone else's pain.

"Just get out of here. Go. You can leave with a clear conscience that your boyfriend fixed my neck and I'll be able to walk again." He let out a disgusted sound. "I thought when he showed up here looking tired and less cocky than normal that maybe you'd come to your senses, but I guess you'll always latch on to the men who hurt you."

The words cut through her, words she has heard before. "I'm sorry, Dylan. I never meant to hurt you. I never did." Her voice breaks.

"Never meant to hurt me? How did you think I would feel about you telling me that you love someone else? All that time, years, I waited for you to put the past behind you, to put your feelings for Jason behind you! I ask you to marry me and you say yes, only to turn around and shove the ring in my face with some bullshit excuse that you can't give me children when I told you that didn't matter to me!"

"I meant it, Dylan. I know you want a family. I see how you look at children. Your mother…" Her voice is choked with tears.

"Don't make this about my mother! This is about you and your self-destructive streak. Nothing else. Take the damned photo album your boyfriend left and just get out! I never want to see either of you again." He closes his eyes to block her out since he can't turn his head.

Tears are running down Robin's face as she picks up the photo album that sits at his bedside. "I never meant to hurt you, Dylan. I do love you." She waits a moment, but he doesn't open his eyes. Fighting back sobs she walks towards the door, when her hand touches the handle he speaks again.

"He's going hurt you." His voice is laced in bitterness.

Robin closes her eyes. "He might," she acknowledges.

"I might not be waiting for you when he lets you down."

"Don't wait." Robin opens the door and walks out. When the door closes behind her she clutches the album to her chest and walks down the hall. She can barely see through the tears in her eyes. She heads for the first door to the outside and slumps against the wall and collapses to the ground sobbing. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't have. They always throw her out of their lives. She thinks of her father. Of Jason. Of Sonny. And eventually Patrick. She can't catch her breath. She feels like something inside her is breaking.

"Hey. Hey." Warm arms wrap around her body and cradle her.

Robin grasps the front of Patrick's shirt and presses her cheek against his chest. Patrick puts a hand on the back of her head. He closes his eyes as the sound and feel of her sobs cut through him.

"Shhhh." He rubs her back. "It's all right."

"I hurt him, Patrick."

"He's a big boy, he'll be fine." Patrick stands up and takes Robin with him, still holding her against him. "How about we head back to Nice and spend some time there before going home?"

Robin takes a deep breath and nods.

>>>>>>>>>

Robin once again is looking out at the Mediterranean Sea. This time she is sitting on a bench on the boardwalk of Nice. Crowds of tourists walking back and forth behind her enjoying the mix of restaurants, fancy hotels, casinos and tourist shops lining the streets leading to the promenade. She closes her eyes and blows out a breath. Patrick, she pictures his gorgeous face, has been wonderful. Since literally picking her up off the ground he has taken care of everything. Checking them out of the hotel, picking up food for them to eat on the drive, driving them to Nice, finding them a hotel and checking them in to separate rooms. He never even asked what was wrong. He just took charge and took care of her. And for once she let him without resistance. It's probably the most romantic time they've ever spent together, she admits. It was time to give him answers.

Last night she had said she didn't know if she could believe and trust Patrick, but the truth was that the one she didn't trust was herself. Finding love again was not something she thought would happen. Truth be told, it was a lot easier for her when that love was unrequited. Not that, she reminds herself, Patrick has used the "L" word. It didn't matter though, because she loved him and if she started a relationship with him now she would be raw and exposed. He would have the ability to her hurt her. And she could hurt him, this thing in her blood could hurt him.

She had been able to manage, though never dismiss, the possibility of infecting him for a short term affair. Now, long-term, the odds increased exponentially that he would become infected, no matter how careful they were. And what about when she got sick? Loving Stone and watching him die had made her who she was and she could not regret it, but neither could she imagine putting someone she loved through that. She can't imagine putting Patrick through that. Then again, they had already experienced that in a way with the encephalitis outbreak, they just hadn't been involved yet. And he wasn't the one running away.

Then again, he might very well not be around for that. He wasn't in love yet and, in fact, had never been in love as an adult. They might very well crash and burn right away. Already loving him the way she does she physically shivers contemplating the searing pain of losing him. But would losing him be worse than never having a them? That was the other choice.

She could do nothing and watch him move on with other women right in front of her. She might die inside every time she him or heard about his conquests – or worse his moving on in a committed relationship with someone else. To avoid that she could again leave Port Charles and her family and friends so she doesn't have to see it. Except she knows that doesn't mitigate the pain. Living without Jason tore at her soul for a long time. Living without Patrick doesn't even seem endurable. He was the very air she breathed now, despite her every effort to resist him and her feelings for him. If she left now she wouldn't even have the memories to keep her company.

And she would be being a really big coward. Something she had promised herself and her parents she wouldn't be anymore down in the Maarkham Islands. It definitely wasn't Patrick being the coward now because he was here, thousands of miles from home asking her to give them a chance at something he had no idea how to do.

She gets up and walks out onto the fence lined look out point and stands looking out over the water, the wind blowing her hair back. From this perspective the choice seems obvious. She either gave him a shot to prove to her he meant what he said or she cut off any possibility that they could have something amazing. Take a risk for happiness and all its attendant complications or walk away from happiness and have an easy, lonely, half-lived life and break her promise to Stone, again. The she turns back and comes back the way she came.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to Pugmom and Jackie for their much appreciated and valuable help with this story. Thanks to everyone who read it and especially everyone who left feedback.

This is the last part. I figured I'd better post before today's episode. I do not want to be compared to that amazingness!

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**Eleven**

"You didn't have to do this."

Robin looks up at Patrick and takes pleasure in the happiness that sparkles in his dark, mesmerizing eyes as he looks at the dinner she ordered set up on the balcony of her room. He had come to pick her up, thinking they'd go walking around until they found somewhere that struck their fancy; instead she took his hand and led him out here. Where a table_ a deux_ is set up, complete with fairy lights and romantic music.

"I did. You've been wonderful to me today." She put her hand on the waist band on his suit pants and looks up at him. "You've been wonderful all week. I wanted to thank you."

The light in Patrick's eyes dims and he brushes back some strands of her hair that were fanned out on her cheek. "I wasn't so wonderful before this trip."

"And you've already apologized for that and I accepted." Robin cuts him off and flattens her hand against his stomach. She could feel his heartbeat speeding up and she relishes the effect she has on him. It was only fair; he'd always had that effect on her. "Let's go eat."

Tonight there is no wine or champagne, only sparkling water. She wants him to know that every word she says is made with a clear head. A small insecure part of her wonders if he's changed his mind from last night, but she only needs to look into his eyes to know that he hasn't. She has been practicing all afternoon and evening what she wants to say, but when he looks at her like that the words stick in her throat. Not from fear, but because she is overwhelmed by the depth of her love for him.

"Do you want to tell me what happened this afternoon?" Patrick asks, his fork hovering over the cold, fresh shrimp she has ordered for the first course.

Robin sighs and looks out into the night for a moment before turning back to face Patrick. She opens her mouth to speak and then pauses. She tilts her head and grins. "He was upset, and rightfully so, that I brought the man I'm in love with here with me." She holds her breath and watches him process what she has said. "I know that you' may not be ready to hear that, but I couldn't agree to what you said last night without being completely honest with you. That way if it's too much for you…." Robin trailed off and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time she feels light, as if a burden has been lifted off her shoulders.

This was not what she had planned to say, but she was at peace with it. He might very run in the other direction now, but she knew they couldn't build a foundation for that "us" he was talking about with half-truths. She might have to face the pain of never really having him, but it wouldn't be because she gave in to her fears.

"I don't know what to say. I know what you want me to say…"

"Just tell me what you're thinking, not what you think I want to hear."

Patrick blows out a breath and rubs the back of his neck, his eyes firmly fixed on his plate. After a long moment he looks up. His dark eyes are red rimmed. "I think, I know that I've never felt this way about any woman before. I know that when you're not around I look for you, I miss you, I think about you." He licks his bottom lip and leans forward.

"Robin, I'm falling for you." His voice breaks and he closes his eyes and grins ruefully. "But…love, I'm not there or not ready or just too stupid to know the best thing that's ever happened to me." He opens his eyes. "I meant what I said about sticking this out and I really, really hope you can be patient with me. Because more than anything I want to be the man you deserve."

Robin reaches across the table and he slips his hand inside hers. "You are already the man that I deserve, the man that I want and I will love you whether you love me back or not. That's just how I love. I'm not walking away either." She looks down at their enjoined hands. "Not unless you ask me to."

"I know that's a lie. Remember when you came crashing into my OR?" Patrick grins and licks his lips. "I haven't been able to get rid of you since. Come dance with me." He stands up and guides her around the table and pulls her to him. "Keep crashing into me and we'll be just fine."

"Crash." Robin whispers and leans up. Patrick leans down and their lips meet as they sway to the music.

The End

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